Holly Jolly Hetalia Christmas
by Anamique4
Summary: What's this? England and America both get sweaters? Norway can't abuse Denmark? Italy decorates Germany's tree like a pasta dish? Sealand sees Sweden kissing Santa Claus? Spain and Romano... Various pairings: USUK, DenNor, Gerita, SuFin, Spamano, NethIce
1. Sweaters

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the story.**

**Hehe. Wow. Yea, so sorry about posting this a day late. I meant to have it all done by Christmas Day, but things got a little crazy around my house. ^^' **

**SO. This will be told in 6 separate chapters, all short, each a different pairing. I'll try to get them all posted by tomorrow! I know it's not technically Christmas now, but who cares, right? ;D It's all in the season, as I see it. **

**First off: US/UK. Enjoy! **

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><p>"<em>Sweaters"<em>

England sighed as he heard the doorbell ring. He gave one last longing look at his cup of tea, knowing full well that he wasn't going to be able to finish it. Walking over, he braced himself for a moment before pulling the front door open in one swift movement. He gasped as he was immediately swept up in a huge bear hug and pressed snugly into a cotton-down winter coat that smelled strongly of smoke and the outdoors… and hamburgers.

"Iggy!" America squeezed him tighter, causing England to choke a little. "Oh, sorry." He set him down quickly, brushing off England's suit with thickly-gloved hands. England felt his lips twitch upward.

"It's quite all right," he replied. America grinned and tugged lightly on Nantucket, a slight tic he had developed over the years. England noticed fondly how the other nation's cheeks and nose were flushed a light pink, courtesy of the outside cold.

"So." America's gaze darted quickly to England, and then down to his hands. "I was thinking… Before we go to Iceland's party? Can we, uh… exchange gifts first?" He pulled out an appallingly-wrapped lumpy package from somewhere he had been hiding it within the folds of his coat.

"Oh, I suppose so." England had rather been expecting this. This was _America_ after all. Not the most patient country on the best of days and this day just happened to be Christmas. Really, he was surprised America hadn't torn apart his house looking for his present right when the door had been opened. "Follow me."

He led a practically bouncing America to the living room, where the man promptly dived onto the couch and looked impatiently up at England. England in turn looked pointedly at him, tapping his foot. America pouted but obediently covered his eyes. England waved a hand in front of the other's face. Satisfied, he then turned away to pull out his own package out from underneath his favorite armchair. This was their annual custom, England not being willing to give away the hiding place for all of his gifts.

"You can open your eyes now."

America beamed at him as he took his hands away. He grabbed England's wrist and pulled him down on the couch next to him. "Okay, now let's both open them at the same time." He grabbed England's immaculately-wrapped package from him and handed him the much scruffier looking one in return. "On the count of three! …One- Two- THREE!"

_Rip._

They both looked down at their gifts.

England was the first to break the silence, giving an awkward cough. "Well… America… This is very… nice."

"And this is- too… Iggy."

Silence again.

"Hey America?"

"…Mn?"

"What the bloody hell is this?"

America blushed a furious hue of red. "It's a sweater! See, there's where your head goes…" He pointed. "And those are the sleeves…" He pointed once more.

"Yes, yes, but…" England gestured at the sweater in a sweeping, unspecific wave. "What is all _this_?"

The sweater was truly horrendous. It was a bright, offensively garish shade of red, but that wasn't what made it truly awful. No, it was the… attachments. The entire garment was covered in smiling puffy white snowmen that extended several centimeters above the fabric. And there was an obnoxiously cartoonish Rudolph on the front with a nose that… actually _flashed_. Electrically. Definitely not washing machine safe. England looked up to see America staring down at his own gift, which also happened to be, you guessed it, a sweater.

"Dude? Have you ever seen _A Nightmare on Elm Street_?"

What an odd question! "No, I can't say I have."

America grimaced and held up England's present, the red and green-striped sweater, up for him to see. England couldn't see anything wrong with it. It was a perfectly acceptable Christmas-colored sweater! He knew America didn't have one like it, because he had looked in his wardrobe last time he was over at his house.

"Well see, there's this guy, Freddy Kreuger, and he's like this serial killer-"

England held up a hand. "Stop. I probably don't want to know."

America hesitated, then nodded. "No, probably not."

More silence. Both looked anywhere but at each other. England felt a burning guilt start to kindle in his gut. It was blindingly obvious neither of them particularly liked their gifts. But… it was Christmas. On Christmas they were supposed to act different, more _thoughtful_, unlike their normal selves. He sighed, then forced his lips into a strained sort of smile.

"I love it."

America looked up.

"Really?"

England nodded and slowly pulled the abomination over his head. He caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror and quickly looked away. Oh God, it was even more hideous than he had thought. America smirked slightly at him before pulling his sweater on as well.

"Wow, this thing sure is, uh- snazzy! You knit it yourself, Ig?"

England smiled a real smile this time. "No."

"Well it's great anyways, and you know what they say…" America got a familiar glint in his eye that England was only too well-acquainted with. "_The best time to wear a striped sweater, is all the tiiiiiiime! One with a collar… turtleneck! That's the kind… Cuz when you're wearing, that one- special- sweater-!"_

England groaned and hit him with a throw pillow.

"Let's go. We're going to be late, you wanker."

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><p><strong>Questions? Comments? Concerns? Put 'em in a review! :]<strong>


	2. Mistletoe

***grins* Okay, so I REALLY like how this one turned out. Gonna totally have to write DenNor more often.**

**Enjoy! **

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><p>"<em>Mistletoe"<em>

"Norge!"

Norway tried to ignore the voice, he really did.

"Oh _Norge_~! Where are you~?"

He slid down further in his chair and raised the book higher so that it was covering his face. Maybe Denmark wouldn't be able to tell he was here…

"There you are!" Denmark's head popped up over the top of the book and he grinned madly down at him. Norway didn't even flinch. Really, he kind of deserved that one for such a terrible hiding place. He exhaled slowly and tossed the book off to one side. What had he even been reading about?

"What," he intoned apathetically. Denmark's wild smile didn't falter. If anything, it grew wider.

"Ya ready to leave? The party starts real soon."

Norway groaned and looked down at his watch. God, was it that time already? Iceland was going to be wondering where they were. And if Russia decided to show up before he got there… He shuddered. His poor little _bror_** (1)**.

"I suppose you're going with me, then?" he asked, rather resignedly. Denmark nodded vigorously, and he suppressed another sigh. Even if he tried to prevent the Dane from coming with him, by incapacitating him in a _number_ of different ways, the other would always find a way to tag along anyhow.

Norway stood up and pushed Denmark out of the way. "Move, idiot." Walking over to the front door, he pulled his coat on, and waited for the other. Sure enough, Denmark came bounding up to him.

"Here, let me help!" Norway sputtered as a thick woolen hat was forcibly pressed down over his head. He re-adjusted the cap irritably.

"I can do it myse-" But he was cut off as Denmark wrapped a scarf vigorously about his neck, repeatedly binding the garment until the entirety of his face was covered, save his eyes. Denmark sniggered at him as he glared daggers at the other nation and savagely ripped the scarf off.

"_Fordømme den, Danmark_!" Norway snarled. Denmark collapsed against the wall in helpless chuckles. Norway glowered at him for a second before wrapping the scarf around other's neck instead. Denmark didn't even notice it was growing tighter and tighter… until suddenly he wasn't laughing, he was gagging.

"N-Norge!" he managed to cough out. Norway stared coolly back at Denmark, still strangling him within an inch of his life. Eyes wide and still choking, Denmark pointed upwards above the front door. Norway looked where he was pointing… and immediately froze. _Mistletoe_. The sacred plant. It was forbidden to fight in its' presence, lest something terrible happen. Denmark took Norway's stillness as a chance for escape, and managed to unwind himself from the deadly clutches of the scarf.

"Whew!" He rubbed his neck and beamed at Norway. Norway didn't even bother to glare at him, still being preoccupied with the plant above their heads. "Good thing that mistletoe was there! But I knew you wouldn't have actually hurt me. Right Norge? Norge? …Norge?"

Norway finally tore his gaze away from the mistletoe. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Denmark."

"You and your jokes, Norge!"

Norway shook his head at the Dane's utter cluelessness and reached out for the door handle.

"…So do we kiss now?"

Norway paused, hand inches from the door. _Kjære Gud…_

"No."

"Maybe later?"

"…If it'll shut you up."

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><p><strong>(1)- "bror"- "brother"<br>(2)- "Fordømme den Danmark!"- "Damn it, Denmark!"  
>(3)- "Kjære Gud..."- "Dear God..."<strong>

**Heh. Used a translator for those, so please correct me if they're wrong. ^^' **

**But yea. That mistletoe thing is totally true... according to a random fact I spotted on MusicChoice. Something about the Norse regarding it as a sacred plant, and it being forbidden to fight while near it. Pretty interesting stuff. I thought Norway would have a healthy respect for something like that. :]**

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Put 'em in a review! ^^ **


	3. Mushrooms

**So it looks like this will updated one chapter a day. Cause I'm slow and stuff. Then at the end I'll probably combine it to one big one-shot, just cause I don't like these shorty chapters. ^^' Enjoy!**

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><p>"<em>Mushrooms"<em>

"Ve~! Germany, I'm almost done decorating the tree! Just a few more minutes and you can come and see."

Germany smiled in spite of himself. When Italy had shown up on his doorstep Christmas Eve and asked, no, _demanded_, to be let decorate his tree for him, he had to admit that he had been more than a little skeptical. But if it meant Italy was kept out of the kitchen, (where he was sure to make a mess baking countless Christmas cookies), then he was fine with it. And Italy _had_ been surprisingly quiet in there, at least until a few seconds ago.

"Okay! Done!"

Germany got up from where he was sitting and moved towards the door to the living room, but before he could reach it, Italy was blocking his way.

"Italy, what-"

"Close your eyes first! It's a surprise."

Germany sighed, but indulged the excitable Italian. He felt a warm palm press into his and a warm flush came to his cheeks. Either Italy didn't notice or didn't care, and he led Germany into the living room, humming loudly as they walked.

"Ve~! I think… All right, you can look now!"

Germany opened his eyes slowly. And immediately regretted it.

"Italy! _Was- Was ist das?_"

Italy pouted. "It's a Christmas tree, silly! You bought it, don't you remember? I was there, and we were out for hours looking for the right one. You said it was really important for Christmas trees to be perfect. And then we finally found one, and we went up to the man and paid for it, and he asked if I was your little brother, and you got really red for some reason, and-"

"Yes, yes, I know what the tree is! But what," And he gestured towards the pine. "-is all… this?"

The tree. _Oh Gott_, the tree that they had spent so long picking out… was covered in pasta. Long strands draped over the branches like tinsel, tiny cherry tomatoes were strung together for the cranberries, and… Germany peered closer. The ornaments… were those…? He sighed wearily, and massaged his temples.

"I hate to ask, but are those ornaments… mushrooms?"

"_Sì!_ You said to me that once time that Germans hang mushrooms on their Christmas trees, so I made sure to put them on along with all the pasta."

"Italy… The mushrooms that we use… aren't real. They're regular ornaments."

"Oh…" And suddenly Italy looked ready to cry. "Does that mean you don't like the tree? I worked so hard on it, and…" He sniffled loudly. Germany felt himself stiffen. He hadn't meant to hurt Italy's feelings. Reaching a tentative hand out, he patted Italy awkwardly on the back.

"Er- Italy, I… it's a good tree."

Italy looked up at him, tears swimming in large amber eyes. "R-really?"

"Really. I can honestly say that… I've never had another one like it."

Italy sniffed again, but his usual sunny smile was fixed back upon his face. Wordlessly he pulled Germany over to the tree and pointed at one of the ornaments Germany hadn't noticed before. He looked closer at it.

"Italy… this is…" There, hanging upon the branch, was a tiny wooden model of the two of them. The miniature Germany seemed to be playing a game of football with a miniature Italy. Both were smiling widely and seemed to laughing. They were exquisitely hand-carved and painted with painstaking care. It must have taken Italy weeks to build it.

Italy shuffled his feet for a moment. "Veh~ You like it?"

"Of course I do!"

"Oh. Good." A pause. "So can I decorate your tree next year too?"

"We'll see."

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><p><strong>Questions? Comments? Concerns? Put 'em in a review! ;)<strong>


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